I recently finished reading E.B. White's essay Here is New York, a tiny little book that I feel quite conflicted about. On one hand I can't find enough people to recommend it to but on the other, I really want to keep it to myself. It's so beautifully written that I'm going to have to read it all over again to see if I can soak up some of the skill contained in it.
As a consequence I've just taken The Elements of Style out of the library to pour over – it's essentially a book about grammar, which, as Ben pointed out, most people would consider to be the driest subject matter in the world, but I am actually finding it laugh-out-loud hilarious. Perhaps it's because I just finished editing the actual driest book in the world – the third volume on the political wrangles faced by British airlines.